SERAPHINA’S POV
The sight of Kieran hit me like a punch to the gut, twisting my insides with a nauseating churn.
He stood by his car, arms crossed, the chilled wind teasing his dark hair into disarray. That familiar brooding expression was painted across his face.
For a second, I couldn’t move. I just gripped the steering wheel tighter like it was the last shred of my sanity.
Of course he was here.
My first thought was bitter and instinctive: He came to defend her again.
Maybe Celeste had already run crying to him, spinning some tragic story about me attacking her in front of her “stepson.”
And he’d come to tell me off—right here, in front of Daniel—because heaven forbid Saint Celeste ever be at fault.
“Mom?” Daniel’s voice broke through my spiraling thoughts. “Why’s Dad here?”
My throat was dry. “I’m not sure,” I answered, though I was very sure. It was always the same pattern. Celeste cried wolf; Kieran came running.
